First Impressions, Final Thoughts
by northerlywind
Summary: What would have happened if House became a doctor at PPTH after his accident? What if he never met Cuddy, Wilson, etc. until then? Inspired by 'The Other Option' by alanwolfmoon.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** My first fanfiction! I never expected I'd ever do a fanfiction, but after reading a handful of excellent House fanfics... yeah, even then I had no desire to write one. Then, I suddenly had this idea, and bam, here it is. This is very exciting. I'd like to thank the Academy... no, seriously. I suppose this is a rather long first chapter. I had an idea of when I'd start the chapter and when I'd end it, but I had no idea that there would be so much in between! I tried to cut out a few unnecessary descriptions, but a few unnecessary ones I still liked. Anyway, this note is getting a bit long... Please comment, critique, and whatever else! :) Oh, and sorry if I terribly butcher the character, and make them totally OOC. I think Wilson is going to appear in the next chapter. Who knows.

---

Lisa Cuddy stared at the resumé, and the accompanying cover letter, splayed out on her office desk. It was very well written, and the job applicant - Gregory House - seemed very eloquent. However, Lisa had the feeling... she couldn't quite place it, but it was almost like he was secretly mocking her in the documents. She had no proof of this, though. It was just a feeling. Sighing, she put the papers down and crossed her arms over the desk. She lifted the sleeve of her blazer to peek at her watch. He was five minutes late already. Halfheartedly lifting the resumé up again, Lisa's eyes scanned over it for what seemed like the thousandth time.

He was well qualified. There didn't seem to be any previous job experience related to the medical field. That was fine, Lisa had interns all the time - most of them grew to be spectacular doctors, regardless of experience. There were no references to speak of, which was a disappointment. Though the applicant had only listed a few interests, hobbies, they seemed to reflect the interests of a well-rounded person. The amount of languages he spoke was nothing short of astounding. Lisa doubted that many languages was required to be a doctor, but you could never know. It could come in very handy. She put the pages down again and glanced at the clock on the wall. Sometimes she liked having a glass office - for one, it looked very 'cool', and for the other, she could observe the happenings outside - and sometimes she didn't. For example, now she could see one or two of the male staff eyeing her. Lisa wished they had curtains, or at least blinds, like the patient rooms.

She allowed herself a brief yawn, covering her mouth with her hand, nails painted a noticeable dark red. Another five-minutes ticked by, and Lisa was getting frustrated. Her chin rested on her fist lazily. She fiddled with the nameplate on her desk. Maybe this was a sign she shouldn't be hiring anyone new. She had been debating the matter. Of course, as Head of the Diagnostics Department, she was bound to need more people working for her, but it also possibly decreased the chances of her getting promoted to Dean of Medicine. She wasn't sure. She was more of a marks girl - punctual, by the rules, etc., she had a tendency to forget to sometimes think outside the box. If Lisa hadn't been as hardworking and generally as _good_ as she was, she doubted she would even had made it past her (somewhat disastrous) internship.

She let her thoughts wander until a flicker of dark movement past her line of vision caught her attention and right THERE was the applicant, at long last! Her breath caught slightly as she took the man in. Her elbow slid off the desk slowly as her eyebrows rose and angled against her will. Lisa couldn't help but make an expression of pity - another of her weaknesses, which was really quite horrible considering she worked in a hospital. The man had a cane! He was struggling a bit to open the door - trying to figure out if it went in or out (out, it backed into the hallway, a problem Lisa herself faced nearly every week), the cane wobbling in the crook of his elbow. Lisa made her face resume a neutral position as she looked at the rest of him.

His hair was feathery, a sort of light brown mix, not quite to the stage where it might start to fall out. He had a bit of stubble over his chin, she noticed with a tiny hint of surprise, as well as slight contempt. His eyes were a startling sharp blue - Lisa could notice them even across the room. He was dressed rather sloppily, obviously he did not have a clear sense (or was it care?) for fashion. Lisa, still feeling pity for him, even though she knew she shouldn't, forgave him for the ten minutes of tardiness. She had a feeling the man wouldn't be discussing it, and so neither would she. She swallowed a bit nervously as she watched him awkwardly navigate to her desk. She half-stood up, unsure, then straightened fully to meet him. He was only - Lisa wasn't sure how old he was actually. He looked older than her, definitely. So perhaps mid-thirties? Not _that_ much older, though. She was also bad at gauging ages.

After what seemed like an agonizing and terse ten (twenty? thirty? sixty?) seconds, the man made it to her desk. Swallowing again, Lisa plastered a smile on her face, and said, "Please sit down Mr. House", motioning to the chair.

Without a word (she wondered if he was perhaps mute? But that would make no sense considering the languages he spoke), he did so, and shortly Lisa followed. She took the papers, and neatly aligned them by tapping them twice on the desk.

Lisa smiled again. "What would you like me to call you? Gregory? Greg?"

He stared at her for a few awkward seconds before replying, "Just House." It was the first time she had heard his voice. She was captivated by it, and only when she reminded herself this was an interview, not a - a _date_, did she compose herself.

"Just House?", she repeated, smiling some more. "Mr. House, then? Or Dr. House?"

Then he smiled in return, a slow, somewhat mocking, or sarcastic, one. "I'm not a doctor yet, Dr. Cuddy."

Words stolen from her mouth for a few brief seconds, Lisa continued, "Well, not technically, but you do hold the degree of a doctor, so." She swallowed as he just smiled that same mocking smile at her. "Alright, just... just House then", she said uncomfortably. Wasn't the interviewee supposed to be nervous, not the interviewer?

Seeing as the man - House, as she should refer to him from now on - was sitting down, and didn't seem to be displaying any evident discomfort or pain, Lisa had momentarily forgot about his cane. She had to restrain herself from asking - yet another weakness of hers - how it came about. It wasn't a standard interview question after all. But there was another, slightly less taboo question, that she could ask, and she asked it, as a compromise to herself.

"How... how old are you, H-House?" Lisa still had to get used to the informality of the 'nickname'. She noticed him raise his eyebrows.

"I don't think that's a question you're allowed to ask Dr. Cuddy", he replied.

Lisa flushed a bit, but continued. "I- I know. Perhaps I can phrase that better. Would you - feel comfortable being under me?"

He smiled, actually now, half amused, and half sarcastic like always. Too late, Lisa realized her blunder. "Of course", he said, voice giving no indication of what was going on inside his head. "How long have you been working here, Dr. Cuddy?", countered House, leaning forward slightly.

Lisa flushed a deeper shade. "That's not really information you need to know", she said, clearing her throat.

He nodded, condescension just barely showing through.

"Four years", she blurted out. Here at Princeston Plainsboro Training Hospital, it had been a mere four years. She wasn't sure what House thought of that information. His face was indiscernible.

The rest of the interview, with the set interview questions she had on a piece of paper, passed in a similarly awkward fashion. Lisa was left thinking, again, who was the interviewer, and who was the interviewee. Though House's blue eyes betrayed an edge of guardedness, otherwise he showed no nervousness whatsoever. Lisa, on the other hand, inexplicably stuttered and flushed and backtracked her way through the next twenty minutes. Finally, it was time to go.

Clearing her throat, she stood up, extending her hand. "Thank you for coming, House", she said, almost by recitation.

Her arm wavered as she watched him awkwardly push the chair back across the ragged carpet. Then, he had to push himself up to a standing position by holding onto the desk. Lisa's eyes travelled to the cane, resting diagonally on the second chair beside House's, before flicking her eyes back to his face.

House, of course, noticed her eye movement and stared at her. The gaze seemed a mixture of angry, reprimanding, and, well, maybe embarrassed, but that certainly wasn't the right word. Finally, he hesitantly reached her own hand out to shake Lisa's. While the gesture had been reluctant, the grip was strong and assured. As Lisa turned over the irony in her mind - that his handshake were strong, while his legs were not, her grip faltered, and her arm swung back to her side. Her eyes could not hold the piercing gaze of House, so she cleared her throat again and looked to her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him loping back to the door, then finally leaving.

Exhaling a breath Lisa hadn't realized she had been holding, she fell backwards onto her chair, exhausted. What. A. Day. This was only applicant number four, but she was already wondering if she made a mistake in this. The other three job applicants hadn't been like House - they were punctual, neatly dressed, orderly, everything Lisa was... but they were also comparatively extremely dull, boring beyond belief. There already was a Lisa Cuddy at PPTH. There needn't be two. As she sorted the files out, Lisa wondered if she _should_ hire House... if only to stir the pot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I'm back! Wow, I was stunned by the reception of the story in just a few hours! Anyway, here's Chapter two! Chapter three will probably have Cuddy again. Oh, and sorry if she's way OOC, she's not one of my favorite characters, hahaha.

---

Dr. Cuddy was _hot _, and not in that_ it's-getting-warm-so-turn-up-the-A/C hot_, either. More like the _sexy, cute, good looking, can't-describle-it-other-than-hot _hot.

House grinned to himself as he rode the elevator (which was a godsend, he thought, even though he hardly believed in a god) down to the first floor. He was leaning on the back of the elevator box, his cane hooked on the metal rail that lined it. A ding sound marked the arrival of the elevator at the intended location, so House grabbed his cane and limped out. He wasn't at the lobby. He probably took the wrong elevator. He was, at least, on the main floor, so he could navigate the rest of the way on his own. He certainly wasn't going to ask someone for help. House stepped forward again, looking left and right.

Right seemed the way to go, so he turned that way and walked through the hall. Looking down at the ground, he realized his shoelace was untied. Seeing as that was very hazardous for someone like House, he reluctantly shuffled to the side, where a bench was. Exhaling, he lowered himself down on it. He knew he should wear more practical shoes - perhaps velcro-fastened footwear, or slip-ons. Of course, he also knew he never would. Besides the fact that they were extremely ugly, they also branded him as other-than-normal. Sneakers were good enough, even though the laces were troublesome. House reached down, and deftly tied the shoelace into a double knot, and made sure the second was fastened securely as well. Hopping lightly on his left foot while holding onto both the bench and the wall, House propelled himself up to a standing position. He stumbled forward a few painful steps... and then someone barreled into him, knocking him off his feet and onto the floor. Luckily he had landed on his left side, but it still _hurt_. A lot. He looked up to face his offender, a young-ish doctor with blonde-brown-ish hair, and at the moment, a very appalled look on his face.

* * *

James' mouth dropped open, the clipboard that had been previously clasped between both hands now held loosely by his side. "I'm - I'm so sorry!", he stuttered, shocked at what he had done. The man on the floor was glowering at him, and for good reason. As the victim of his clumsiness sat up, James reached out a hand. "Are you okay?"

The man didn't respond. He also ignored the proffered hand, instead waving at something to the side. "Just get me that, will you", he said sourly.

James turned, and the appearance of a cane startled him, his eyebrows shooting up. "Is - is this yours?" His stammered and stuttered and stilted speech popped up often when he was nervous and/or feeling guilty.

The man gave him an '_Are you an idiot'_ stare. "No, it's Dr. Cuddy's", he said sarcastically. "Yes it's mine. Go grab it."

He knew Dr. Cuddy? Well, that wasn't surprising. She was the Head, and she was hot, too. Even if that wasn't something James was particularly wont to noticing. He had a wife, after all. James shut his gaping mouth and retrieved the cane, holding it out to the man. "Sorry", he said again, still very guilty.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold it up", replied the man, pantomiming something James couldn't interpret. When he noticed James wasn't getting it, he just sighed and got up, leaning on the cane, a wince clear on his face. "Next time, watch where you're going, Intern", he growled, and, spinning around, started to walk - or limp - away rather quickly.

James, his guilty conscience still very much present, jogged after him (it wasn't difficult to catch up). "Wait!", he cried, slowing down to a walk, then speeding up to a jog, and alternating between. "I'm not an intern. And you should get back to your room."

Without looking at him, the man said, "I'm not a patient. Next time check your facts."

He wasn't a patient? Well, that would make sense, sort of... considering he wasn't wearing a hospital gown. Maybe he was a visitor. James' pace faltered but he still was easily walking alongside the man. "Then why do you have a cane?" The words came out before he could stop them.

The man turned to look at him. It only lasted a second or two, but it was The Look. They had started to near the front entrance. "Don't be so nosy, Intern.", he said, almost as a final farewell, before he pushed through the doors into the sunny parking lot.

James frowned slightly, tilting his head. That was an interesting experience. As if just remembering it, he raised the clipboard so that he could read its contents. Flipping through the first pages that he had already read, the next was a memo from Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Head of Diagnostics. She was hiring. Huh. James blinked at the page, before flipping it closed, and running back to his original destination.

* * *

Now that annoying - doctor, intern, whatever it may be - was gone, House relaxed, unclenching his teeth. He slowed down, breathing quicker than usual. Turning to an off sidewalk, he fumbled in his pocket, his fingers clasping around a familiar pill bottle. Popping open the cap with his thumb, he shook out two pills and swallowed them. As he closed them, he rubbed his sore leg. Damn inexperienced staff. He did an about face and walked to the curb, flipping his cell phone open to call a taxi. There were handicap spots for cars right at the front, but what was the use of them if you couldn't even drive a car because of said handicap? That was just painful irony there. Shaking his head, House got into the cab and went home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Very short 'filler', if you will. It's leading up to the next chapter. I thought I'd just break it up into separate chapters. Thanks to everyone who's been reading (and reviewing)!

---

The telephone woke House up at 9:42 AM. Groaning, he rolled over, and grabbed the phone on the nightstand. "What?", he snapped into the phone.

"House?", asked a tentative female voice. "It's Dr. Cuddy." She sounded a bit more assertive over the phone, but not much. "We feel that you seem to be... qualified for this position, so I - I mean, we - would like to schedule a... second interview." It was obvious she was both nervous about calling and probably reading off some script.

"Yeah", he said, after coughing to clear his throat. There was a bit of silence on the other end. House wondered if she was still there.

"Okay... so... what time?"

"Any. Afternoon."

"Three? Three o'clock then?"

"Fine."

"All right. See you then. Have a nice day, House."

House hung up, rubbing his eyes. Stretching his legs briefly, he rolled back into his pillow and tried to go back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Wow, I'm on a roll! I couldn't help but finish up this part in the story. I had it laid out in my mind already, after all. Dramadramadrama. More to come in the near future, thanks all readers!

---

House walked into a meeting room, his cane rendered completely silent by the carpeting. He eyed the familiar two: the Head of Diagnostics, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, and the old man beside her, Dr. Harold Stoeckl. The latter was clearly eying the former's breasts, the observation of which made House smile. It wasn't the Dean's fault that Dr. Cuddy was wearing a see-through blouse with the top three buttons undone.

"Good morning lady and gentleman!", he said heartily, his mood heightened by the pleasant effect of the Vicodin he had just taken. Dr. Cuddy seemed surprised at the change, and Dr. Stoeckl's attention was temporarily redirected.

"Have a seat, Dr. House", the latter said, smiling, gesturing to the seat opposite the pair.

Swinging his cane, House obliged, sliding into the black leather. His crumpled black dress shirt nearly camouflaged in the material. He smiled brightly at both of them, especially Dr. Cuddy, who, he was pleased to see, was astonished. House noticed her gaze traveling down to his hand.

* * *

"You're married?", asked Lisa, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the silver band on his left ring finger. Quickly glancing at the Dean, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate", she corrected, though she kept staring at it. She noticed House's beam widen, and was briefly reminded of the Cheshire Cat.

"Oops, must have put it on the wrong finger by accident, silly me", he said lightly, popping it off his finger and dropping it into his pocket.

Now Lisa was really confused. She wasn't sure if he did it on purpose to get a reaction out of her, or whether he really was married (!!!). She couldn't remember if he was wearing it last time. She didn't think so. Closing her mouth, she straightened. "Yes, well then, let's get started", she said, clearing her throat. Lisa felt her eyes stray to the pocket in question, however she determinedly kept her gaze forward.

* * *

The whole process had taken a _while_, and House was itching to take a few more Vicodin, as soon as he was out of sight. He watched the Dean hurry past him, turning down the hallway to do whatever Deans of Medicine did.

"House!"

He turned around at the call, and, seeing that there were only two people in the hospital that could have called him, spotted Dr. Cuddy with her head out the door, fingers curled around the door frame. She beckoned to him, and disappeared.

Curious, he took a few haltering steps toward the door, his hand retracting from his pocket with nothing in its grasp. "Yes?", asked House, his mind whirring as he thought of why he would be called. There could be only a few options, and only one of them was G-rated.

He took another step in, and Dr. Cuddy closed the door behind him. Turning, she half-sat on the oblong table. "I'm not supposed to tell you this-", she started, taking a deep breath.

"Then I don't think you should, Dr. Cuddy", said House, backing up to turn the doorknob.

Dr. Cuddy rushed forward and grabbed his wrist. "Wait."

House's eyebrows raised, and he let go of the knob. This would be interesting.

She took another breath. "You're getting the job", she said in one rush.

"That's great", said House, raising his eyebrows further. "Is that all, O Future Boss of Mine?"

"On... one condition."

He turned to grab the doorknob again. "No."

Once again, House felt the doctor's fingers curl around his wrist, and it wasn't to take his pulse.

"Just... hear me out, House."

Sighing, he let go for the second time, leaning back on the door. He really wanted his Vicodin at this point.

"You... have to tell me... what the circumstances were... I mean, how you got...", Dr. Cuddy made an awkward motion to his cane.

"Got what?", he asked, playing dumb.

"Your cane, House. How you got your cane." Her eyes travelled downwards, and he couldn't tell if she was thinking about it, embarrassed, or both.

"Then I don't want the job. Good day, Dr. Cuddy", he said, making a mock bow. He quickly turned the knob, and rushed out the door. This time she didn't try stop him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Another short filler. Don't worry, the next chapter will be coming soon! It'll be longer, it'll have more drama, and it will have- *trains rumble by*

---

"House, pick up. I know you're there."

Lisa Cuddy's floated into the bedroom from the answering machine on the table. If he hadn't been so irritated he would have almost thought it was _endearing_, the way their '_relationship'_ had progressed.

House's hand slapped on the nightstand, grasping for the phone. He pressed the answer button, still curled up in his blanket. "Stop calling me, I'm going to have to issue a restraining order", he warned - mostly, but not completely, joking.

"House!", cried the voice on the other end, surprised and relieved he had finally picked up. Without a pause, she continued. "You need a job, House."

"_You_ need to _do _your job, _Cuddy._ Are these phone bills coming out of your doctor's salary?", snarled House, a hand on his forehead.

"My job is to hire doctors-", she argued.

"_Doctors that aren't me_", he emphasized. "Competent, able-", whatever that meant, "lackeys who would climb Mount Everest and _die there_ for the job."

"No, House", said Cuddy louder, vehemently. "I need _you_ on my team. Forget what I said about knowing about-", her voice trailed off.

"That negotiation was voided a long time ago, Cuddy", said House, his voice sounding just plain tired.

"Don't you need _money_? Don't you need... something to _do_ during the day?"

"I'm perfectly content sleeping in peace, _thanks_."

"Then what would persuade you to take the job?"

"Nothing."

"You seemed perfectly fine with taking it a month ago-"

"That was before you screwed it up-"

"It was an _innocent_ question-"

"Oh yeah? Do you just go to all your patients and ask them when they're going to die?"

There was a pause in the verbal exchange.

"Do what you want, House. I'm not going to hire some dumb college grad-"

"Then be prepared to wait-"

"How long-"

"That's _not_ what I meant, Cuddy-"

"I can give you time, you know-"

"_Goodbye_."

House hung up, but punching a button wasn't as satisfying as hanging up a phone. Exhaling, he ran both hands through his hair. He was already up, and he wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again. Drinking from a glass of water by his bed, he took a few Vicodin, then got out of bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **A month-and-some later after the interview... As promised, here's the drama. Hope you're enjoying the story, readers! As always, comments are very much appreciated!

---

Lisa had called nine times.

She felt like she was crossing some sort of line, the doing of so labeling her as an obsessive stalker of some sort.

It wasn't as it seemed, though. Usually House picked up by the third or fourth call. That meant he was too lazy to pick it up on the first few calls, then finally was fed up by the ringing. If he wasn't in the mood for verbal bantering or a battle of wits, he'd pick up on the first or second ring... if he was 'having a bad pain day'. If it dragged to the fifth or sixth call, that meant he was either ridiculously lazy or exhausted. It never went to the eighth call.

All this made Lisa feel she was being slightly obsessive with all this. Of course, she didn't call _every day_... just a few times a week to try to recruit him.

She had called in the morning, at around ten, and he had picked up on the first call. Lisa had backed off, and hung up, then resumed her work day.

Come lunchtime, there was good news. She was told by a workmate that there was rumors that the Dean was going to retire sometime soon. This meant Lisa would be promoted to his position (well, there was a 99% chance), and that meant her spot would be open. She knew there would be a number of power-hungry, determined doctors eager for the spot, but as the future Dean of Medicine, she could give House the spot instead. Maybe that would persuade him. He didn't seem the type to like to be under another's authority.

She had called, eagerly, as soon as lunch was over. He hadn't picked up. This was to be expected, so Lisa had called again. And again. And again. Multiple times. A crazy number of times. By the time she hung up on her ninth call, she was starting to get seriously worried.

This didn't seem like a type of prank House would play. Lisa wondered if he was just ignoring her. But she couldn't push away the nagging feeling that maybe something was _actually_ wrong.

She pulled out a file folder from her drawer. House's resumé. Lisa's eyes snapped to the top of the page, where his address was neatly listed. Perfect. Her fingers flew over the keys as she searched for directions. It was a 20-30 minute drive. She grabbed her coat, packed her things, then ran out the hospital, giving some excuse she couldn't even remember a minute later.

Lisa drove through the streets, worry creasing her forehead. She glanced down at her cellphone, covertly dialing House's number, even though she wasn't wearing her Bluetooth. As she went on, she realized she knew the neighborhood. It was an okay place. Nothing special. Lisa arrived, looking at the printed page of directions to make sure she got them right.

This was an apartment building! Granted, there were only a few floors, but it was an apartment nonetheless. Lisa was surprised. She hadn't necessarily assumed House lived in a mansion, but at least she thought he lived in a, well, _house_. Instead there was this. It wasn't shabby, but it certainly wasn't a ritzy downtown condo, either. She parked, then got out of the car, looking around.

Lisa walked to the front door, trying to open the gate... which was locked. Only then did she realize that not only did she not have a key to House's place, she also didn't have a key to even get in the _building_. Lisa bit her lip, walking around. She could just go. He was probably doing something else, and wasn't at home (not really possible, the only errands he did were under twenty minutes). She felt guilty though. Ten calls and counting was really worrisome.

Taking a deep breath, she punched in the number for his neighbor.

"What is it?", said a coarse and annoyed voice.

"Um, yeah, hi, I'm a friend of Gregory House", said Lisa, lying through her teeth, "And I was wondering if you could let me in? He's not at home right now and-"

"Gregory who?"

"House. Gregory House? He's your neighbor? He has a cane, kind of moody-"

"Oh, yeah, him!" There was a sardonic laugh. "I didn't know he had _friends-_"

This, while mildly startling, was not shocking to Lisa. "Yes, well, he does. Could you let me in? I have to drop something off."

"Fine, lady, here you go" There was a buzz and a click, then the gate swung open.

"Thanks", called Lisa, but the man was already gone. Clearing her throat, she pushed through the gate, looking around. She took out her cellphone to check. No battery. Damn. Looking at her crumpled note with the address on it, she bounded up the few stairs. They were nothing to her, but for a man with a cane, it must be annoying as hell every time. Lisa looked back through the gate, so much like prison bars, through which the afternoon sun was filtering through.

She turned forward again, looking at the doors down the hall. Her heels clacked noisily on the hard concrete. She got to the door, knocking on it. "House?", she called out, a little softly, because she didn't want her voice to echo through the corridor. Sighing, she turned around in distress. Lisa knocked again, but there was no answer.

On a whim, she tried the doorknob, and to her surprise, the door opened after a strong turn. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't question it, instead walking into the place and _locking the door_ behind her.

First thought: _Messy_. Very messy. There was a well worn couch, a small TV, an electronic keyboard folded in the corner, and books. Lots. Of. Books. A small barely used kitchen was off to the side, and then a hall.

"House?", called Lisa again. No answer. Cautiously, she stepped over the books and newspapers and magazines on the floor, and went into the aforementioned hall. One door stood at the end of the comparatively narrow passage. She walked to it, slowly pushing the door open, not sure what she would see.

Nothing, or no one, jumped out at her. She was a little guilty of perhaps going too far, crossing the line... She had a fear that maybe House _was_ out doing something, and would come in to find her going through his home. Swallowing, Lisa went forward. A nudge at her foot sent her jumping backwards with a small shriek.

She looked down, expecting a rat, or a mouse, or even some household pet... instead it was just his cane, lying on the floor. Lisa bent to pick it up, putting it gently on the bed. It was a little suspicious, but maybe he had two. She smiled a bit, seeing the phone. There had been quite a few conversations through that small cordless device. Lisa was about to leave, since House wasn't there, when she spotted another door. She had first taken it as a closet, but she noticed an actual closet on one wall. This was something else, and the door was slightly ajar.

Curiosity overtaking her, Lisa gently pulled the door open further... and saw House lying on the floor. "Oh my god. House?!", she gasped, hurrying forward. She crouched down, and took his pulse. It was still beating. Thank god he wasn't _dead_ but he was unconscious, and that wasn't a good sign. Lisa took out her phone, forgetting it was out of battery. She was at a loss for a few seconds before remembering House's phone by the bed. She ran out, and grabbed it, punching the three numbers for the emergency call. Sitting on the bed, she hurriedly gave the details to the operator.

When she was done, she hung up, placing the phone back where she had found it with a shaking hand. Her heart was beating quickly. For five terrifying seconds, Lisa believed that House was dead. She stole a glance at him, and was guilty that the paramedics would find him on the floor in such a vulnerable state. There wasn't anything she could do, though. Lisa got up from the creaking bed and knelt by his unconscious body. He was definitely too heavy to be carried anywhere by her, and besides she could accidentally do something to hurt him further.

She brushed the hair from her eyes. Still guilty, she watched him, lying on the cold floor. She spotted an orange bottle that had rolled off to the side. Tilting her head, she grabbed it. It was a pill bottle, and it was empty. Turning it in her fingers, Lisa whispered aloud the label, her eyes widening.

"Vicodin."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **DRAMA! Not as much, but anyway... another Wilson appearance! Also, note, though these are in third person, it's from the characters' respective perspectives (rhyming not intended), so some information may be false, hmm... Thanks readers!

**Disclaimer: **By the way, I don't own House, or any of these characters. (Besides Dr. Stoeckl? Ha.) David Shore does.

---

Lisa walked past House's room, willing herself not to look. She couldn't help herself - she stole a glance through a slit in the blinds. He was still asleep, she noticed - or at least pretending to be. After telling a nurse to page her when he woke, she walked back to her office anxiously. Lisa picked up the patient file on her desk. There were two emergency contacts listed - a woman named 'Stacy'... and herself. When she saw that she had been puzzled.

Didn't House have anyone else to call in case of an emergency? He had only known her for a month or two. How had he changed it so quickly? Lisa wondered whom she had replaced, or if there had only been one contact prior to their acquaintance. She remembered how House's neighbor had laughed when she told him that she was his 'friend'. Sighing, she put it down.

She really was getting too obsessed with all this. She sat back and spun on her chair slowly. A buzz from the pager sent her standing up in seconds. She took a deep breath to steady herself - wondering again the cause of her behavior - then slowly walked to House's room. A nurse was walking out, looking more than a little flustered. Lisa wondered if this was the time. Maybe she should come later?

He had already seen her though. Lisa noticed the flash of blue eye before he closed them quickly, pretending to be dozing. Biting her lip, she carefully walked to his bedside. Folding her skirt beneath her, she hesitantly sat on a nearby chair. She took an internal deep breath. He knew she was there. He also knew she knew he knew she was there. She laughed quietly to herself. This was messing up her mind.

The light sound had House reluctantly open his eyes. He turned his head and stared at her. Lisa suddenly felt nervous. She swallowed. "What happened, House?", she asked softly. She was both angry at him for being an idiot and afraid that she wouldn't get an answer if she was too demanding about it. "You could have killed yourself!", in angrier tones than her first words.

"Yeah, I could have", replied House, almost thoughtfully. He was staring blankly at the ceiling, having turned his head back again.

The words scared her.

"House, this isn't a joke. What happened?" Lisa was starting to lose control of her emotions. She took a breath to calm down.

"Tried to kill myself. Failed.", he said plainly, shrugging his shoulders as best he could while lying down.

Lisa's face turned slightly pale. She couldn't comprehend how he was taking it all so lightly, even though she knew - or _mostly_ knew, _hoped _she knew - that he was lying. House wouldn't be so forthright with the truth. She decided to drop the subject for the time being. If he wasn't going to tell her, he wasn't going to tell her. She could wait.

"Your parents...?", said Lisa in an attempt to change the subject. "Do you want me to call them? I couldn't find anyone listed on your file-"

"They're dead."

"I'm so sorry." It came as an automatic reaction. She couldn't help but internally wince at how clichéd it sounded. She doubted House would appreciate the meaningless phrase. Lisa wondered if that response was a lie too, but then felt guilty for thinking that. Would he lie about that? Well, yes. On the other hand, there was a different look in his eyes, and she didn't want to question it further at this point.

So many conversation dead-ends.

"What about... there was someone named... Stacy?" She pretended she hadn't seen her own name there, and so did House.

"No."

Lisa swallowed. She noticed she had been inadvertently scratching the arm of the chair with her nails, and stopped suddenly. She started to chew them before realizing what she was doing and stopped. Bad habit. She took a deep breath. She hated conversations like these during which she had to step as carefully as if she was walking through a loaded minefield.

"I heard you were my _saviour_." The sarcastic voice came from House, naturally, but Lisa was suddenly very relieved and glad he had spoken up.

"Yep", she said, nervously laughing quietly. She stopped, feeling it was probably inappropriate. House didn't seem to notice - or if he did (he probably did), he didn't seem to mind it.

A sudden motion and noise caught Lisa's attention, and she turned to see Dr. Wilson, one of the oncologists, sliding open the door. Upon noticing the two, he seemed very embarrassed.

"I... think I have the wrong room", he said, clearly feeling awkwardness on intruding. He noticed the man in the bed watching him.

"Fancy meeting you here", grinned House.

Lisa looked from House to Dr. Wilson in confusion.

"Yeah", replied Dr. Wilson, laughing. "Dr. Cuddy." He nodded to Lisa before quickly sliding the door shut again and leaving.

"You... know him?", said Lisa in confusion.

"Long story.", replied House, laughing a little in that caustic way of his.

Lisa was, actually, beyond relieved he was all right. Feeling it was time to let House sleep (or pretend to), she got up. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

It was probably her imagination, or wishful thinking.

"You", she said, shaking her finger and smiling slightly, "Owe me. Take the job. Head of Diagnostics." With that, she started to back away. Even though House replied with a quick "No." as always, Lisa could sense a hint of hesitation that showed he was... _considering _it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Another short chapter! In a different style. I was experimenting. :)

To answer the questions a lot of you had: Yes, the facts have been changed around in this story... or, rather, altered a bit. However, remember... _everybody lies._ ;)

---

House woke up. He was uncomfortable on the unfamiliar bed and starched, sterile white sheets. His leg hurt. He was restless. His eyes opened and gradually adjusted to the dark. He wasn't sure what time it was. He closed his eyes and tried to dive into sleep once more.

House woke up. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the light was pale beyond the closed curtains. He wondered if it was dawn.

House woke up. Opening his eyes, the world seemed darker than it was during his last observation. He wondered if that had been a dream. Something dark by the bed startled him, but the only indication he showed of it was a light rustling of the sheets. He could see the whites of Cuddy's eyes just briefly, contrasting against the dark that surrounded her.

He wondered if this was only an illusion of his. House shut his eyes briefly. He felt himself being pulled under to the realm of sleep, but he surfaced reluctantly - breathing audibly, noisily. He opened his eyes. Cuddy was still there, but she hadn't said a word.

House couldn't tell if she was watching him. It seemed like she was, but then again, why hadn't she spoken up?

He wondered, fleetingly, if she was a ghost. Or maybe a presence.

Then he realized how ridiculous it was and dismissed the idea.

He closed his eyes, still floating on the edge of awake and asleep.

"I lied. The pain got too much, and I just kept taking more and more pills", he murmured.

House wondered if he was just talking to himself.

His eyes, out of curiosity, opened once more.

The eyes in the dark blinked once, then seemed to fade into the shadows.

He wondered if it _had_ been an illusion.

He wondered.

He wondered before he was finally dragged down,

down,

down,

into

sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the horrible delay! I know this is short too, but I wanted to get something in here. I have sort-of plans for the next chapter, and I will try to get it up within a few days (hopefully tomorrow afternoon). I wish you well faithful readers (if you're still here).

House sat on the hospital bed, propped up on one pillow, and with half his body draped with bedsheets. His left arm was boring to examine, lazily thrown to one side, presenting a stark contrast on the ever-blinding snow white sheets. His right arm, however, was crooked at the elbow, leading up to his hand, and in that House held his cellphone. He was staring at the shining metal casing of it, part curiously, and part aimlessly. His thumb bent and extended as it opened and closed the phone, each time with an irritating snap.

His fingers paused in its movements, phone flipped open, the address book pasted in the glowing rectangle. House stared at the words on it, eyes focusing and unfocusing, wondering how a bunch of tiny pixels that made up five characters - in any other arrangement meaningless - could be so painful. The numbers below the title he didn't even have to look at to recite, even with eyes closed House could picture it in his mind - even could accidentally dial them in his sleep. His thumb hovered dangerously near the green call button, and - whether out of impulsiveness, clumsiness, or a mixture of both - suddenly dropped the phone. It clattered to the speckled linoleum, closing itself in the process.

Muttering a swear under his breath, House awkwardly slid to the right and extended his arm in an attempt to pick it up (not that he was 100% sure he wanted to). Though the length of him was formidable, it could not contest the height of the hospital bed with the mechanism that allowed it to be lowered, folded, raised, & c. He had to give up, and he lay back amongst the foam, feathers, or whatever it was that made up the interior of the pillow.

House had almost made up his mind to sleep again when the clear, young, and annoyingly pitched voice of his attending nurse jolted him into reality.

"Mr. House? Mr. House?"

In order to get her to shut up, he reluctantly pried his eyes open. "What?", he all but snarled at her.

"It's 9 o'clock", she said, consulting her watch for his benefit. She - Maria? Darla? Anna? - rapped the glass face with her nail. She held out a small paper cup with two pills in them. Definitely not Vicodin. Most likely - okay, definitely, though House could not name the precise brand - one of those over-the-counter painkillers that he despised.

He slowly reached out his hand to take them, and only because she was staring at him in such an annoying manner, and because he _really wanted to be alone_, he gulped them down, along with a cup of water provided. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, House watched warily as the nurse disposed of both paper cups. Just when he was going to internally celebrate her departure, she whirled around.

"By the way, you're being discharged this afternoon", She flashed him a fake pleasant smile before disappeared through the sliding door.

House watched her round the corner, then slid off the bed, bent to retrieve the phone, and stood staring at it, balancing on one foot. He had half a mind to just ditch the phone under the bed. But then, how would he get a new one? Gripping it in frustration, House hopped back onto the bed, but didn't climb into the covers. Instead, he turned the phone over and over in his hand, and in his mind, deliberating.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Yay new chapter! Yay longer chapter! Yay for readers still reading! :) I'll try to spice up the action/drama next chapter. ;)

Lisa walked through the halls of the hospital, or she should say in the future, _her_ hospital. She grasped House's cane between her fingers, gripping it tightly enough so she wouldn't drop it, but loosely enough so that it swung rhythmically along with her strides. It was partially hidden behind her, as she meant it to be, lest someone somehow make a connection with it, her, and the particular patient she was going to visit. Conscious of its pendulum-like movement, Lisa held it tighter, arm pressing gently on her hip. She wondered, as always, if she was making a mistake in doing this supposed 'good deed', or whatever she thought it to be. The blinds were shut, as requested, so she still had time to turn back with a more-or-less good conscience.

The purpose of her visit was not only for niceties, pleasantries, or small talk. She, well, she wasn't sure what the purpose was, _precisely_, but as far as the present level of her mind knew, she was also attempting to badger him to take the job. Before he was released from the hospital and possibly - something. Maybe he would run away to another country. Whatever the reason, Lisa felt that doing this was a 'sort of' life-or-death matter. As well, though she wouldn't admit, she really wanted to be thanked, in a true and not sarcastic way. Maybe she was just vain like that.

Having made up her mind - 'sort of' - Lisa took a deep breath, as always wondering at her jitteriness. She passed one of the attending nurses, Chrissy, on her way there. Ridiculously, she felt like she was being watched. Not really in that 'creepy stalker' way, more like 'co-workers noticing her actions' way. But there! One of the male nurses glanced at her! No. She was being paranoid. Of course they'd look at her. She (believed that she) had a somewhat commanding presence, and if she was most-likely-sort-of-probably-almost-certainly going to be the Dean of Medicine, _of course_ they were going to look at her, if not try to suck up to her. Even at her current position as the Head people were apt to pay her attention, and sometimes that 'the boss is here' edge of wariness. Shaking her head to clear it, Lisa slid open the door with the hand that held the cane.

She saw House, who was sitting - legs an inch or so off the ground - on the side of the bed. She noticed him start just slightly at her sudden appearance. Lisa also noticed his eyes definitely looking at the cane in her hand quizzically. She swallowed, wondering why her mouth was always dry in his presence. He didn't turn his head to look at her, merely flicked his crystalline eyes in her direction before looking down again. He seemed to be either preoccupied, ignoring her, or both. She noticed a dark object between his palms and she wondered at it.

"I have your cane", she said weakly, holding it out. Wow. Superb opening sentence. Could win awards for that.

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "I noticed", he said, raising his eyebrows. He didn't ask how. He probably knew anyway. Lisa saw a metallic _thing_ that passed for a temporary cane off in a corner. She wondered if he had used it, or if he had been too proud for it, and just limped around when necessary. Her lips turning down ever so slightly, she walked two steps forward. House dropped the object on top of the upturned sheets. It was a cell phone. Lisa took another step, hurriedly this time, and pressed the cane into his palm. She smiled, brightly but also nervously. More awkwardness was not fun.

House spun it slowly in his fingers, his hand almost automatically clasping over the handle. "Thanks", he muttered, obviously grudgingly, but she was happy to hear it. Holding onto it, he stood up, reminding Lisa how tall he was. He wavered, unsure of what he was doing, or had been planning on doing. He turned to look at her. "Thanks." This time it was a dismissal. She wasn't going to take the hint that easily. Of course, he knew that too, but one could always hope.

"Have you thought about the job?", she asked, a little more eagerly than she had meant. There was a heart-dropping length of silence. Her smile slowly faded.

"Obviously _you _have", he said. Did this evasion mean 'yes'? Lisa wished she was better at reading people. Not as good as, say, House, but... better.

"Wouldn't you like having a team working for you?" She knew that, at least, he preferred it to working for someone else. She knew he was probably very qualified for the position, but the fact was that he had no job experience in the field. The others were going to resent her if she allowed him the job, too. The latter issue wasn't of much importance, it was just the first she was a little worried about. Lisa was willing to take risks, and she knew, she _knew_ that he was a _good doctor_ but she wasn't _sure._ She was willing to take risks, but not lawsuits.

"I would _like_ to get out of this room", he responded.

More evasion. His hand slid out of the cane as he sat back down on the bed. This was so confusing. Lisa wondered if he'd ever talk about what had happened that day, in more detail than that one miraculous night of confession. If he was being evasive about _that_, she wondered what it would take to learn his _past_. She had already given up on her 'ultimatum'. She had been bluffing, anyway. She just didn't expect the reaction he had to it. She had just been curious. The current Dean was pressuring her to hire _at least one doctor_. But Lisa didn't want any doctor but House, and House didn't want to be there. Well. She wasn't sure.

"The Vicodin", she said suddenly, bravely, though she was scared of his reaction. "Why? Couldn't you have chosen anoth-"

"It works for me", he said flatly, interrupting her.

Lisa was relieved he had answered, rather than dismissed her from the room. This was a good sign. She continued on. "What do you mean? You've used it before?"

"For years."

Years?! That was a long time. Lisa had thought he had just been desperate and been prescribed a potent drug recently... not that he had been using it for _years_. Not for the first time Lisa wondered how much pain he was perpetually in. "But- It's addictive, isn't it?"

"Not in prescribed amounts." Was he lying to her? Maybe. He got up without warning and paced around the room a few times, limping on his cane. She wondered if he was completely aware of his actions, or if it was just a natural thing.

Lisa backed up against the wall to give House more room to maneuver. She couldn't think of another question that he wouldn't shoot down and/or be angry about. Her eyes travelled left, right, left, right as she watched him. It was almost dizzying. He stopped his movement. "I need to change", he said abruptly, clearly dismissing her. "Unless you want-"

"Right, okay", she said, unable to stop a blush from spreading. "Have a good day." Lisa quickly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her and exhaling. That had been absolutely, brutally exhausting, to hold a conversation like that. Well, at least it was an exercise for the mind. Biting her lip, she turned to look at the closed blinds once before walking away.


End file.
